Ben Elton’s new jukebox musical gives us a potted biography of model, singer and actress Twiggy that traces her life from her parents' first meeting to her success on Broadway. Its music consists of popular songs (sometimes just snatches of them) from across the decades from the thirties to the eighties, sometimes contributing directly to telling the story, as when Twiggy’s dad sings “Take Good Care of Our Baby” to her manipulative manager Justin de Villeneuve, but often chosen because they are loosely relevant and of the period.
Elena Skye as Twiggy narrates her own story, wryly looking back from a present-day viewpoint and sometimes identifying the songs and their dates. From her parents' courtship in a Cricklewood dance hall, things move forward to the creation of the Welfare State and the birth of Lesley Hornby (i.e. Twiggy) in 1949. That was the year after the NHS came into existence, and there is an atmosphere of optimism with everyone confidently chorusing “I Believe”. In sharp contrast, her mum’s postnatal mental health issues see Nell Hornby in hospital being given ECT.
Throughout, there is an element of “how bad things were then” running parallel with an awareness that change that seemed promised has never happened. We see working-class Lesley escape from a rigid class system as society was changing, but look around now and you will still see entrenched privilege.
As both writer and director, Ben Elton presents a succession of rapid-fire short scenes that slow down for the presentation of Twiggy’s marriage to Michael Witney, with its difficult mixture of what seems like true love and alcoholism; Twiggy hasn’t had an easy life. Each makes its point quickly, like music hall sketches, creating space for the music.
The playing is often tongue-in-cheek; almost every characterisation is on the edge of caricature (like the coiffures of the show’s multiple wigs), but there are exceptions. Elena Skye’’s Twiggy matches the original’s Neasden perkiness, Darren Day’s Witney, however schmaltzy, seems painfully honest and Steven Serlin as her dad Norman is touching real. Matt Corner’s Justin is outrageous, but then it seems so was this self-styled Svengali.
When you risk staging Twiggy dancing with Tommy Tune as they appear on Broadway, you have to have good dancers, not just as the excellent if rather camp Tommy (the programme doesn’t name who plays him) but the whole company, and, backed by a good band, they have strong voices too.
Timothy Bird’s set places it all in a photographer’s studio, a great roll of white background paper centre in front of a wall of squares that suggest a proof sheet, with the shadows of lighting equipment later replaced by multiple images from Twiggy’s life in Tim Blazdell’s video projections. Someone has done a great job in researching the images used, and Jonathan Lipman’s costumes and Jacob Fearey’s choreography also contain touches that will stir nostalgic memories of those times for those who remember them.
This is a show bursting with effort and energy, but It doesn’t get to grips with the drama of Twiggy’s life and its social comment is too superficial. However, it seemed to suit its audience, who gave it a warm welcome.